


On Alien Manipulation, and the Positive Results Thereof

by quiet__tiger



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Justice League gets kidnapped while investigating an alien planet, with Dick along on the mission.  He and Bruce…have a challenging day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Alien Manipulation, and the Positive Results Thereof

**Author's Note:**

> For the [ Bruce+Dick Ficathon](http://brucedickficathon.tumblr.com/) over on Tumblr. I don't understand Tumblr, and I've never written Bruce/Dick before, but I really wanted to participate in this challenge.
> 
> With [accompanying art by Little Zion!](http://faelivrin.net/brudick/littlezion.jpg) How fabulous is that? It's way more atmospheric than I had envisioned!! Totally awesome colors and shading too!

~*~

The passageway was carved from solid rock, the surface rough from the use of primitive tools. The air was dank and bore the unpleasant smell of sulfur. The narrow passage was lit with some sort of glowing rock spaced evenly along its sides. Dick couldn’t tell how far underground they were, but no doubt Bruce could guess and probably tell what direction they were headed.

If alien planets used the standard compass directions, anyway.

He tried to turn to get Bruce’s attention and maybe try to ask around the gag in his mouth, but the alien creature on his right—seemingly stocky for their race—jabbed him again with his spear. Dick turned back around, resigned to being led through an alien tunnel by a chubby gray alien on an alien planet. With his hands tied behind his back with something that just would not _cut_ no matter how hard he tried with the blade slipped from his gauntlet. Eventually the blade had been taken from him by the little gray buggers.

He was _never_ going on an off-world mission with the Justice League _ever_ again.

He was, however, grateful that he and Bruce still had their costumes, because between the two of them they should be able to figure out a way to break their bonds and get the hell back to the ship. Where he would be able to take the time to bless the electric current that shocked strangers when they tried to remove his or Bruce’s belt. Being prodded by aliens and led around by them while _nude_ would be even worse, not to mention losing all their tools. And the sight of Bruce bound and gagged and _naked_ might short-circuit Dick’s brain in all the wrong ways; his fantasies of naked Bruce did not involve aliens, at least not ones that looked like these.

Of course, Nightwing and Batman being led by a small gaggle of short aliens with six fingers and digitigrade lower limbs provided quite a sight for anyone who might be watching. Each alien had a spear either pointed at Dick or Bruce or hefted over one shoulder. Their clothing was primitive, like the spears and the tunnel, but in brighter reds and greens and blues than one might guess.

The hues blended in perfectly with the flora on the planet’s surface, which is how the League members had been ambushed in the first place. Little buggers were damn hard to see. The surprise attack combined with the swiftness of the aliens’ movements made it impossible to defend against them, especially when trying to get used to the air on the planet.

The League should have ignored the anonymous tip to investigate the new planet. What aliens try to be anonymous anyway? They should have just invited them to their home planet or landed on Earth.

The two aliens in front of him abruptly turned around, looked at him and Bruce, and then back at each other. Then they… _giggled_? He needed aliens in his life that didn’t mock him. Heck, he’d like if anyone who’d kidnapped and gagged him over the years hadn’t mocked him. It wasn’t easy being the Boy Hostage.

The passageway finally ended at a T, with both right and left hallways off of it identical. The aliens split into two groups, half of them leading Bruce to the right, and the other half leading Dick to the left. He tried to get Bruce’s attention, signal him, _something_ , but Bruce was yanked by his ropes when he moved too slowly for the aliens’ liking.

That was fine. Dick could make it on his own. He’d been around aliens before. Almost married one. She spoke to him, though. These ones just chittered in a language he couldn’t understand.

He was led down the passageway, and gradually realized he could hear noise. It sounded strange at first, unrecognizable, but then he realized it was the sound of hundreds of aliens all talking at once, like they were waiting for some sort of public event to start.

Led through a curtained opening on his right, Dick couldn’t help but groan and wish he were wrong.

He was being led into some sort of arena, about forty meters by twenty meters. The high walls were capped with spearheads, and over them he could see scores of aliens sitting impatiently, fidgeting and yammering. As different groups saw him, they cheered. Apparently he was the main attraction.

Other than the spearheads on the tops of the arena walls, the place was blank; the four-meter-high walls were white and bare. Or they were once white, it looked like; now they were flecked with a smudgy brown, and Dick didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about what made those smudges. The ground was hard-packed dirt that looked clean enough, but Dick didn’t want to know what was underneath the surface. The walls and ceiling were made of the same glowing rock from the passageway, and it wasn’t quite as bright as the daylight of a yellow sun, but was plenty enough for him to see by. 

He relaxed slightly when Bruce was led through a doorway on the opposite side of the arena. At least he wouldn’t be alone in whatever was going on. But were the cheers for Bruce louder than the cheers for him?

They were forced to stop walking towards each other with about ten feet in between them. Their audience cheered and stood and applauded, the place a sea of bright colors and gray skin. Finally everyone calmed down and sat, though Dick couldn’t help but be anxious about what might be next.

He didn’t wait long before percussive music was played and a door towards the top of the arena opened. A procession led down the stairs; aliens with drums led the way, while next a tall alien in a floral-patterned robe and surrounded by four guards made his way down. More drummers were at the rear. The procession made its way to front row center, the equivalent of field level on the 50 yard line, right at the top of the wall.

So Dick and Bruce were going to be entertaining royalty. Lovely.

The robed alien raised his hands and the others immediately fell silent. He chittered loudly and gave a no doubt rousing speech, if the thunderous cheering and applause at its conclusion were any indication.

Then Dick and Bruce’s gags were removed and their bonds cut, but their captors moved too quickly for them to take action after being tied up for so long. Besides, Dick kind of wanted to see what was going to happen.

Their captors took up sentry positions next to the entryways after pulling shut gates Dick hadn’t noticed on his way into the arena. He guessed he and Bruce were stuck there. Turning to Bruce and happy to be able to speak at last, he unhelpfully asked, “So what happens now?”

“I’m assuming we fight.”

“Fight?”

“Look around.” Bruce turned and gestured to the crowd, which now seemed to be booing them. “They’re here to see us fight. Classic gladiator stadium and competition. And the walls are smeared with blood.”

“A fight to the death?” Bruce didn’t answer him, just narrowed his gorgeous blue eyes underneath the cowl. “Right. I need to learn to stop asking stupid questions.”

“What we need to learn is a way out of here.”

Dick glanced back to the royal guy, who did not look pleased, assuming facial expressions here were similar to those on Earth. “Should we pretend to fight? Buy some time?”

“Are you suggesting we spar?”

“We can make it look good. Like a real fight.”

“It’ll give us a chance to learn more about our environment. Maybe there’s a time limit and we can leave after a while.”

“I’m not counting on it.”

“Let’s do something simple so we can strategize at the same time.”

Dick nodded and shifted his weight back into a ready position. Bruce did the same, and after nodding at each other to indicate they were ready, they began. Dick struck out with his right hand, jabbing lightly just to see what Bruce would use in counter.

Bruce deflected and immediately came at him with his left hand, pulling the punch so Dick barely even felt it through his armor, despite the solidity of Bruce’s gauntlet. They didn’t often spar in full costume, so this might prove to be a valuable training tool. At the very least it had to be better than sitting in a cell—God forbid separate cells—and wondering what was going on. Granted they might be able to escape the cell, which didn’t seem to be a possibility here in the arena. Yet.

Feinting with his left hand, Dick spun towards his right to strike with his right foot, but Bruce had him figured out and swept his legs out from under him. He crashed onto his back and the aliens cheered. He rolled to the left and up into a kneeling position. From there he launched himself at Bruce, spinning to the right abruptly, which knocked Bruce off balance for his counter strike. Somehow he still managed to land a blow to Dick’s shoulder, but Dick was able to twist and use Bruce’s momentum against him to get him to pitch forward and fall onto his knees.

The aliens cheered again, and Dick wondered who they were cheering for. He didn’t think it really mattered.

Their sparring match continued for a little while with no clear line of escape presenting itself, and Dick worked up a decent sweat. However, he knew the aliens couldn’t be entertained by them for long, no matter how graceful a show he and Bruce were able to concoct as they went along. Fights weren’t generally watched for the artful choreography; someone was supposed to win, and someone was supposed to lose, and as it was Dick and Bruce weren’t aiming towards such an outcome. Surely something would be done to up the ante or get them to truly fight.

And he did hate himself for being right when two double-headed axes were thrown into the ring, the clanging sound startling even with all the cheering.

Dick eyed the axes while preparing for the combination move he knew Bruce was planning. “I think they’re on to us.”

“We’ll just have to step up a notch on the performance.”

“You do know how I like an audience.”

“Ever since I first watched you. You’ll have them eating out of the palm of your hand in no time.” They’d often joked about Dick liking being the center of attention and putting on a show—an important quality in being the first Robin—but never before had it really been so important on a mission. And as usual the offhand comment about Bruce watching him caused a little thrill inside of Dick. If only Bruce knew how much Dick wanted that, his focus on him alone, perhaps arousal coursing through them…

Bruce attacked him with the expected punch-uppercut-knee-punch combo, and Dick blocked the assault while trying to figure out the best way to slip away to grab his ax. Dick was agile but Bruce was like a wall when he wanted to be. Thinking quickly, he allowed Bruce to grab him and he launched himself off of Bruce’s thigh into a backflip, far enough away that he could land and get a grip on one of the axes before Bruce.

He hefted the weapon and swung it once; it was balanced a little awkwardly, but Dick could work with that. The craftsmanship on the blade itself was beautiful, with a sort of vine design engraved into the metal of each head. The grip almost looked like leather. The wooden shaft was carved, too, and Dick wanted to look more closely but if he did Bruce would have to attack him lethally, lest the aliens catch on to their ruse.

So instead he raised the ax and pretended like he was going to land his own lethal blow. Bruce, of course, barely reacted and still Dick barely grazed him, the edge of the blade sliding harmlessly across the suit’s chest plate. Clearly Bruce had a lot more experience fighting ax-wielding maniacs.

Not that Dick was a maniac.

He wasn’t sure how Bruce managed it, but he was able to do his own roll-and-grab move for his own ax, and came up swinging. “You’ve really got to sell it, Dick. You _want_ to hit me. You _want_ to slice me open.”

At certain points in their relationship that might have been true, but right now was certainly not one of them.

“Same for you.” There was a fleeting expression of dismay that flashed underneath Bruce’s cowl before he was able to smooth out his features.

“Of course.”

It was harder to feint with the axes, and besides that Dick was getting tired. The ax wasn’t heavy but it was heavier than nothing. And Bruce truly was more experienced with axes; he was coming at Dick in enough different ways to keep him almost entirely on the defensive. There were only so many ways Dick could come up with to sell the fight, be entertaining with his flips and spins, and appear evenly matched.

“Bruce, relax a little. I hate to admit this but I’m having trouble keeping up.”

“Then you attack me. Put your weight on your other foot, and don’t choke up so much on the shaft. You’ll get better leverage with a longer shaft.”

Dick would have made a “That’s what she said” joke but he was too focused on forcing Bruce to block an attack. “That’s better, Dick. Keep coming but don’t forget that swinging from your non-dominant side is a good way to take advantage of your opponent. They’ll expect blows from one side, so you can take them off guard by using both hands equally.”

And so the lesson continued, different from their usual training sessions because they weren’t able to pause for a break, or for Bruce to actually show Dick what he meant by his directions. Dick could only listen to the words and try to implement them, and not get hurt too badly by a lucky shot of Bruce’s.

It was definitely one of the stranger training sessions Dick had ever had, and he’d trained with Kid Flash and Aqualad on a regular basis.

He got better, though, as he got more familiar with the weapon. He figured out how to use its weight and his own acrobatic ability to really work together and make his attacks difficult and different enough that Bruce had to actually work to dodge and counter attack.

It was actually a lot of fun, and Dick was able to almost forget that he and Bruce were fighting against their will in an arena full of cheering aliens. They didn’t have a lot of sparring sessions anymore, and it was something Dick sometimes missed, being in close sweaty quarters with Bruce even though it was sometimes hard to hide his attraction to him. He was going to do his best to enjoy the moment while they tried to come up with a way to escape.

Until, of course, there was a noise similar to that of a small cannon being fired, and the air around Dick and Bruce became thick with some sort of greenish powder. “What the hell—”

“Try not to breathe! We don’t know what it is!”

Of _course_ it was too late, and Dick could feel the powder coating his throat. It didn’t taste like anything but it was chalky, and he gagged a little as he tried to work up some saliva. He heard Bruce cough, too, and hoped whatever this stuff was that it wasn’t poisonous. But having them battle only to poison them seemed a little anticlimactic.

Then he realized their audience was cheering even more wildly, and he was afraid about what that meant. Just what the hell was this stuff? It was fine enough that there was still some of it floating in the air around them, looking like pollen and making Dick wonder just what the hell he and Bruce were in for. Damn aliens and their damn alien home world.

“Bruce, do you feel anything?”

“No. But we better get back to our fight.” Bruce gestured around them, the aliens appearing to be losing their patience after the expectation of something grander.

Striking a more visually menacing pose, Dick mock-snarled, “Give it to me.”

“Your trash talk needs work. Go practice with Tim and the Titans.”

“Gar alone could write a dictionary…”

Bruce swung his ax towards Dick’s head, though still not at full strength, and the fight—such as it was—was back on. Adrenaline flowing and muscles relaxed, as Dick grew more confident in himself with the ax, he got more aggressive and tried to practice using the ax as a counterweight to flips and spins. Bruce relied on his size and muscle, and neither one of them seemed to gain any sort of advantage.

And for some reason, that made Dick angry. The more they were locked in stalemate, the more he wanted to win. _Needed_ to win. It was asinine and ridiculous, but he wanted blood from this fight. The _need_ to work through his years of frustration with Bruce—sexual and otherwise—became overwhelming, and he needed blood, needed pain.

He just had to break through a few barriers first.

Dick feinted and ducked, and was able to come up between Bruce and his ax. His experienced fingers found one of the clasps on the Batsuit and popped it loose. Bruce’s eyes widened then narrowed. “So be it, _Dick_.” Before Dick could flip away, Bruce had his fingers underneath Dick’s utility belt and was able to disengage the locks. As Dick shoved himself away, his belt came off in Bruce’s hand.

“Take it, I don’t need it,” Dick sneered.

Something… something had _changed_. The sparring session abruptly turned into a real fight. Dick snarled as he actually tried to hit Bruce with the ax, wanting skin and blood as he fought. Bruce fought back just as hard, blows with the ax stinging Dick’s hands as he blocked them with his own ax handle. The clangs and thuds of the weapons crashing together were loud, and were the only sounds Dick focused on as their audience faded from his attention.

He just knew he had to _get_ Bruce, make him bleed and let Dick win, victory the only thing on his mind as he blocked and dodged, twisted away from Bruce’s larger form. Bruce’s eyes were green-tinged, and gleamed with an unfamiliar, angry—murderous?—light.

The problem with wanting blood while fighting in their costumes was that it generally took a lot of effort to get through the costumes to the vulnerable parts of their bodies. That was the entire point of the costumes, obviously, aside from that whole “fear and dramatics” thing Bruce had going with his. Even once the belts were off, there were clasps and zippers for all the different pieces of their armor. But a few buttons weren’t going to stand in Dick’s way. He would spill Bruce’s blood.

Bruce’s ax came down at just the right angle to tear into the seam of Dick’s right sleeve, and he knew he had to get Bruce stripped out of his armor first. He’d already gotten one clasp, but the belt needed to go next.

Close to the wall, Dick vaulted off of it and grabbed Bruce’s shoulder to pull him to the ground. He only had a few seconds before Bruce pushed him off—stripping off one of Dick’s boots as he did it—but he was able to pop the locks and remove Bruce’s belt. “Got yours.”

“Don’t need it.” Bruce rolled them and yanked off Dick’s other boot.

“Son of a bitch—” Dick flipped them up and backwards so he was back on top. Taking advantage of the leverage, he punched Bruce in the jaw a few times, enough to disorient him and grab the ax out of his hand. He tossed it to the side and ripped off Bruce’s right gauntlet. As he grabbed the left one Bruce rolled and slid away, kicking Dick in the side of the head to do so.

Dick sprang to his feet to ready another blow with his ax, but Bruce had been able to grab his again to block. Breathing heavily, sweat dripping into the dirt, Dick remembered the one clasp he’d been able to undo. There were only a few more…

A bit more nimble without his boots, Dick was able to leap and flip as Bruce ducked for a shoulder charge, and as he landed he clocked Bruce in the back of the head with the end of the shaft. Dropping the ax, he was able to get his fingers under the cape, and wrenched it off, the cowl with it. He threw it to the side, but that gave Bruce enough leverage to grab Dick’s thigh and fling him to the ground.

Bruce pulled him up by the front of his costume and head-butted him. Dick saw stars as Bruce yanked off both of his gauntlets one at a time. But with Bruce’s hands occupied Dick was able to snake his fingers against the Batsuit’s remaining clasps and undo them. Bruce’s movement inhibited by the loose equipment, Dick was able to flip them over again and grab Bruce’s boots.

By the time Bruce crawled away for his ax and got to his feet, he stood there sweaty and filthy in only his jockstrap, and if Dick weren’t near blind with the inane urge for blood he’d let his mind wander into a specific corner with silk sheets and plenty of oils and lube. Bruce looked like an ancient soldier…or a wrestler… scars crisscrossing his strong body as his muscles twitched in anticipation of continuing the fight. He panted, then rasped out, “Keep it coming. We aren’t done here.”

Conceding the competition had changed, Dick stripped out of the rest of his costume, including his mask. Having armor when Bruce did not meant the fight wouldn’t be fair. Besides, he wasn’t shy about his current near-nudity. He knew he looked pretty much the same as Bruce, just leaner and shorter and with scars in different places. He pushed a hand back through his damp hair. Bruce allowed him to stoop and pick up his ax. Dick set himself back in a ready position, and bared his teeth as Bruce nodded. _Let’s continue_.

Bruce lunged then dodged Dick’s counter, and swung the end of the handle up into Dick’s jaw. Stunned for a second, Bruce was almost able to swing the blade around in time to cut into Dick’s arm, but Dick was able to jerk his arm back out of the way in time to only get a small cut. It stung anyway, and a stream of red poured down his arm.

The aliens _roared_ with delight.

Bruce looked too damn _smug_ for Dick’s liking. “That all you got, Bruce?”

“Far from it. But I don’t want to take you down without more of a fight. …Except that I do.” He lunged again with the ax, a broad motion that Dick blocked. He kicked out with his right foot, catching Bruce in the solar plexus. Wheezing, Bruce backed away, and Dick knocked him off his feet onto his back. His ax dropped into the dirt.

Energy surged through Dick, the need for blood almost unbearable. He used the blade to streak Bruce’s chest with cuts, watching the red well up. “Got you, Bruce. See who’s the bigger man now?”

“Never.” Bruce yanked the ax out of Dick’s hands, turned it, and slammed the top edge into Dick’s stomach. The top corners of the blades cut into him, stinging like a bitch, but Dick was able to take Bruce’s weight as he rocked up towards him and flipped him back over top of him. Bruce landed with a grunt.

Dick was overtaken with an overwhelming fury and pitched the ax away. “We do this like men.”

“Gladly.”

Dick pulled Bruce to his feet then punched him in the face. Bruce retaliated with an uppercut and a left hook. The fight mirrored their earlier sparring, except for the lack of armor and the presence of the new desire to actually _hurt_ each other. Every time Dick landed a blow that bruised Bruce or opened a cut, Dick felt stronger, more in control, more ready to—not kill. What was the end goal here? He was getting a little fuzzy from the constant movement and hits to the head.

No matter how he felt, though, it was clear Bruce felt the same, or stronger. Eyes still greenish, face flushed, torso smeared with blood that mixed with his sweat, angry expression on his face, he looked like a warrior in the middle of battle. Strong and powerful, clever and angry. He was, truly, but it wasn’t something Dick had ever seen before. Not like this. That look was never directed at Dick and he wasn’t usually almost nude.

But now the look was focused squarely on Dick, as Bruce hit and kicked and ducked and dodged, using his bigger size to his advantage. Finally Bruce landed a solid hit that knocked Dick down, and Dick wasn’t able to spring back up.

Bruce stepped on Dick’s chest, his foot pressing him into the dirt. “Looks like I win.” He gestured to the ecstatic aliens, and Dick could see some of them exchanging small metallic discs like they were poker chips. “With what final means shall I appease my fans? They’re looking for a glorious victory with a final dramatic flourish. Though I’ll admit that’s more your area of expertise.”

He stooped to pick up his ax, fingers curling lovingly around the handle. Was he really going to kill Dick? Was Richard John Grayson really going to meet his demise at the hands of his mentor on an alien planet? While putting on a show for said aliens? After everything he’d ever been through in Gotham and Bludhaven, the Titans and Outsiders?

_Bruce_ was going to kill him?

Just what in the hell was happening here, and just what in the hell was Dick’s life?

Bruce raised the ax, the action seemingly happening in slow motion.

Before Dick could formulate a new plan to squirm away and get to his feet, another cannon fired. This time the air was filled with a reddish powder, like the arena floor was dusted with paprika. The dust burned Dick’s eyes and made him feel grimy as it stuck to his sweat, but it also meant Bruce would be distracted enough to let him go.

Hopefully.

He grabbed Bruce’s ankle and shoved, and rolled at the same time, and was able to force Bruce off balance. Of course Bruce didn’t fall, the bastard, but he did look stunned for a moment. But whether that was due to anything Dick did or simply just the shock of the powder, he wasn’t sure.

Dick got to his feet, albeit not too steadily, and braced himself for another attack from Bruce.

But the other attack never came. Bruce just stood there panting, ax loosely clasped in one hand. “Bruce?” Bruce shook his head slightly, meaning ‘give me a minute.’

Dick realized that the urge to fight Bruce to the death had faded, and he quickly felt horrified by what he’d done. He’d _cut_ Bruce, _hit_ him, made him bleed, and why? Obviously it was that green powder, but what the hell was it? What kind of aliens had powder that made people fight?

Of course, if the aliens didn’t really view them as people, which was why they had them both fighting like animals… Dick’s brain hurt. He was also embarrassed. The urge to fight and kill had been so strong, and had faded so quickly once the new powder was in the air. Why? Did the red powder somehow negate the effects of the green? Were the aliens finished with them?

Could they go back to Earth, never to speak of this experience again?

Could Dick take a shower sometime soon?

Was Bruce looking kind of… confused? “Bruce?”

“I don’t want to kill you anymore.”

“Um…thanks?”

“But why not?”

“Just wondering the same thing. But maybe we should get the hell out of here before something else happens.”

“Are you okay? Let me look at the cut on your arm.”

“I should be asking you the same thing. I got you pretty badly a few times.”

Bruce shrugged and looked bored, an expression that generally meant he was trying to think six steps ahead of what was happening at the current moment. “Barely feel it anymore. Just cuts. And some bruises that will heal. Won’t be able to show my face at the office for a few days.”

“Didn’t you tell them you’d be on vacation for a month?”

“True. So I don’t have to worry about looking like I picked a bar fight.”

“What about me? The precinct is going to wonder who I pissed off and why I wasn’t able to collar them.”

“Just say they were bigger than you.”

“’Cause that’ll work…” Dick rolled his eyes, but turned his shoulder to Bruce so he could examine the cut from the ax.

The second Bruce’s rough thumbs touched him as they pressed around the wound, Dick felt a bolt of pleasure shoot through him. Bruce dropped his arm like he was burned. “Dick, what was that?”

“I don’t—” Bruce pressed his fingertips to Dick’s arm again, and the bolt shot through him once more. He watched Bruce shudder and knew he felt the same thing. “Jesus Christ.”

This time Dick reached out, fingertips lightly trailing down Bruce’s chest, the teasing touch causing fluttery and delicious tingles to radiate from the points of contact down to his groin. “What the _hell_?”

“The dust, it’s got to be…”

“What, sex dust? Sex pollen? Why do so many alien races want humans to have sex?”

Bruce didn’t answer, just pressed his hand over Dick’s, the harder contact making him shut his eyes and groan. Dick groaned too, both at the _amazing_ feeling coursing through his body, and the chafing of his jockstrap against his erection. He was _so hard_ and _turned on_ , just from Bruce’s hand over his. Fingertips to groin, and the feeling amplified by the contact with Bruce’s hand.

They were in _so much trouble_. Dick had been harboring his crush on Bruce for years, shamefully fighting it even as much as it was a part of him, and there was no way he was going to be able to fight this, if sex dust was what it was.

Eyes flying open, Bruce jerked his hand away while stepping back. The feelings of arousal instantly dissipated, but there were still tiny tendrils of pleasure that Dick could feel underneath his skin. “Bruce, we need to stop touching. That’s causing it, right?” He tried not to glance down, but Bruce’s jock was clearly chafing him, too.

“Yes. Stay away from me.” But he didn’t quite look like he really wanted that to happen.

Dick stepped backwards, knowing he had to get away from Bruce. But he felt… not burning, per se, but a _need_ to get closer to Bruce. He started to step back another step but found himself stepping forward again. His hand reached out and he forced it back, only for it to reach out faster and actually touch Bruce. His hand wrapped around Bruce’s wrist, and the resulting bolt was strong enough to make Dick’s hips jerk forwards.

Reaching from his palm to his groin, Dick’s skin tingled, and as he held on, the tingling got stronger. Like a vibrator pressed carefully under the head of his cock, the contact felt like a pulse, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to pull away before he came. Why would he even want to, the need to come so strong within him, fingers and arm and stomach and cock lit up with it. He was already so close, and—

Bruce yanked away from his grasp, and Dick mourned the touch, the fantastic feeling of his skin hot and tightening as he worked towards orgasm fading. “No. We’re not doing this. We’re not letting them win.”

Dick shook his head, trying to get his brain in gear with all of his blood elsewhere. He opened his mouth to protest, and Bruce cut him off. “No.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“ _Like_ it?” Bruce looked appalled and kind of sick, but there was some level of guilt there, too.

“Are you not interested?” Just what the _hell_ was coming out of Dick’s mouth? He’d fought for years to hide his reaction to Bruce, the thoughts of _wanting_ him. But knowing that even under the effect of alien powder, Bruce _still_ rejected him… Yeah, that hurt. It wasn’t like he wrote his and Bruce’s names linked together in a heart in the margins of his notebooks, but Bruce had been a focus of Dick’s sexual energy for a long time.

But the _feeling_ of _want_ when they touched… Not even want, but _need_ … Bruce was damn sexy even before the dust brought his attention to the forefront, and Dick needed to feel and taste all of him more than he ever had in his life.

He stalked back towards Bruce, who looked wary and… conflicted? “Come on, Bruce. Like you don’t need to get off once in a while.”

“Once in a while, under circumstances vastly different than these.” He gestured around him, and Dick glanced up at the aliens. Their royalty looked bored, but he could be pleased or sick for all Dick could tell. Even if the audience were larger and more engaged, Dick didn’t think that would be enough of a deterrent for him. Not when he wanted to bang Bruce as much as he did _right now_. The thought of all of that muscle and scarred skin under him, or wrapped around him… maybe even _especially_ with an audience…

“You really don’t want me?” He hated that it hurt to say, and hoped it didn’t come out as needy as it sounded.

“No. Do not come closer. You know I can best you in combat.”

Steeling himself, knowing that confidence was sexy, Dick argued, “What, this little display here? That was just _fighting_. I am much more determined when it comes to getting laid.”

Bruce closed his eyes in a _please save me now_ sort of gesture. When he opened them, they bore straight through Dick. “We’re not doing this. You are stronger than alien dust, no matter how much of an aphrodisiac it is. I trained you better than this.”

“Your mouth says no, but your cock says yes. I thought you were an expert at keeping control of your body. …its needs and reactions…” Dick slunk a little closer, shifting his hips at an angle to Bruce so he could see him better.

“I’m spending an exorbitant amount of energy fighting my reaction to your hand around my wrist. Apparently it’s not enough to fight both the mental reaction to the dust and the visible physical reactions it’s causing.”

“What’s mental? I want to touch you, let you touch me, all over, if your wrist felt that good, think about that feeling around your cock, or inside of you…”

Dick watched as Bruce’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared. “I knew it. Thought I heard you and Clark that night. I’m not as strong as he is, but I know I can do things to you that you can’t imagine.” Remembering that night, Bruce’s strained chanting of what sounded like _fuck me fuck me fuck me_ , Dick felt a pang of jealousy, but he wasn’t going to let that ruin this moment they were having, forced or not. Turning his charm and desirableness up to eleven, Dick slid out of his jockstrap. He stroked himself slowly, wishing he got the same jolt of pleasure from his own hand as he had from touching Bruce.

“No. Do not come closer to me.”

“But Bruce—” Dick stepped forward and reached out to touch once more, then found himself on the ground, the left side of his face both hurting from being punched and tingling from the skin contact.

Bruce stood over him, looking so torn, between arousal and responsibility, horror over knocking Dick down but knowing he had to, and trying to figure out if he should help him up or run away.

Before either of them could move, another cannon fired, and a dose of the red powder hit Bruce smack in the face. He gasped in surprise, inhaling a good portion of it. He coughed and spat, but Dick knew it was hopeless. Bruce would be his.

Inhaling more of the dust as it settled around him, Dick sat up and twisted around to reach out to Bruce. He wrapped his hand around his calf, the muscle strong under his palm. He gasped as he got another bolt, his fingers, arm, shoulder, stomach, and groin tingling with need.

He felt Bruce give a half-hearted struggle to pull away, but Dick knew he had him. Knew Bruce wouldn’t be able to biofeedback his way out of a second dose. The muscle twitched under his hand, and Dick massaged it. Bruce _groaned_ above him, and Dick tipped his head back to drink in the sight of him.

Jock pushed to the side, straining erection rubbing against it slightly when Bruce moved his hips, long legs and long torso streaked with dirt, sweat, and drying blood, Bruce was sexy as hell and Dick couldn’t take it anymore. He raised himself up enough to spin into a leg sweep, swept Bruce’s legs out from under him, and caught Bruce before he landed. Spread on his back, Bruce looked up, somewhat dazed as Dick climbed on top of him, knees spread over Bruce’s muscular thighs.

_So much more_ skin contact now, thigh-to-thigh and cock-to-cock, and Dick groaned as he pulsed pre-come and rocked against Bruce, seeking more of that _feeling_ and _needing_ it.

“God, Bruce, I just need to—” He wrapped his hand around both of them, and loved the way Bruce thrust up against him and made a _sound_ deep in his throat. “Do that again, want to _feel_ you against me—” Bruce complied, pushing up against him as he ground down into him, his hand amazing around both of their cocks but his brain already thinking ahead to getting inside of Bruce. “God, I’m gonna—so close—” A strong, calloused hand groped at his thigh, and the accompanying extra pleasure tipped Dick over the edge of orgasm, and his body jerked as he came, streaking his come through the mess on Bruce’s chest.

He leaned over and panted, trying to catch his breath, and opened his eyes to enjoy the sight of Bruce _needy_. Bruce kept thrusting up into Dick’s fist, trying to get off, and after catching his breath a little Dick pressed his other hand against Bruce’s sternum. The pleasure made his own cock jerk back to attention, and Bruce’s other hand squeezed Dick’s other thigh. Both hands grabbing him almost tight enough to bruise, Bruce worked against him, rocking up with _so much purpose_.

Dick gasped again at the sensation, and almost missed the way Bruce’s face tightened as he came, eyes screwing shut. He scowled slightly but then was slack jawed as he shot all over his own chest and stomach. As he breathed heavily, chest heaving, he opened his eyes again, and Dick smiled at him. “That was damn hot. I cannot wait to make you do that with my cock inside you.”

Hands flexing against his thighs, like he didn’t know if he wanted to let go or try for a second orgasm in that position, Bruce stared at him. He eventually asked, “Are you sure that’s what you want?” There was a level of _hope_ in his voice that Dick knew he wasn’t imagining.

Chuckling, Dick answered, “I think I can honestly say I’ve never wanted anything more in my _life_.” It was _absolutely_ the dust talking, even drowning in lust Dick knew that, but right now it was true. If he didn’t claim Bruce _right now_ he would… Well, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t actually explode or go crazy, but who knew? Maybe if the dust wasn’t worked out of one’s system or neutralized by more dust, the person affected by it died.

Clearly the only responsible thing to do was do what the powder wanted.

And right now, it wanted Dick to plow into Bruce.

Feel him under him, straining against his cock, choking back moans and whispers, clenching around him as he fought off succumbing to his own orgasm as Dick worked towards his.

All of a sudden Dick was hard as a rock again, and could see that Bruce was too. The biggest problem Dick faced right now was what position he wanted to be in. He was quite happy to stay where he was, looking down through the fringe of his hair into Bruce’s red-rimmed eyes, Bruce’s powerful thighs tightened around his waist, his sweat dripping onto Bruce’s chest.

But the rational part of him—dwindling though it was as the _need_ to get off slowly coiled tighter and tighter within him—wanted to let Bruce choose, as the bottom. Dick could get off in any position—had come hanging upside down a few times, even—but Bruce may not be able to do that.

A red haze crept along Dick’s vision as he thought through a number of positions, but he was brought to the present by Bruce stroking his hands up Dick’s thighs. Dick couldn’t help the shudder it caused, that pleasure bolt zapping to his groin from two different directions and making him leak again. “Dick… I want— _need_ —you in me. _Please_.” They hadn’t even gotten _close_ to that yet and Bruce was already almost begging.

The odds of Dick lasting to the point of actually penetrating Bruce were decreasing rapidly. He wondered what odds he was getting now among the aliens.

Just the _thought_ of being inside tight, hot—God help him, _Bat_ —heat made him rock against Bruce again, raising his hips for more leverage and snaking his hand around their cocks again. Bruce bucked up against him again, growl deep in his throat. And now Dick couldn’t get the thought of fucking that throat out of his mind, Bruce’s deft tongue twisting around his cock every time he pulled back and thrust forward.

Fortunately Bruce was, as was to be expected, more _compos mentis_ than Dick was, and he had the presence of mind to grab underneath Dick’s knees and flip them over. On his back, looking up at Bruce, Dick had a fleeting thought of bottoming for Bruce, of getting fucked hard and fast by his mentor, living out fantasies from his adolescence that had long been shelved in the _don’t let it fester_ part of his brain. But then Bruce wrapped his hand around his cock, fingers curling into place one at a time, sending separate tiny pulses of pleasure through his body, and Dick just _had_ to be inside, feel that all around his cock.

“Just stay here.” And with that Bruce was gone, the weight off Dick’s thighs and his body cold and _wanting_. But Bruce was back soon enough, his weight settling on top of him pleasantly once more, condoms in one hand and packets of lube in the other. Dick raised his eyebrow and Bruce shrugged. “You never know who you’ll meet on patrol.” Dick opened his mouth to protest as Bruce continued, “…Okay, so sometimes Selina or Clark needs me.”

“That’s fine.” As if Dick, even in his wildest imagination, didn’t think Bruce got it on with _those_ two. He’d caught Bruce and Selina enough, and it would explain a lot about Clark’s popping into the Manor at all hours of the day and night. And he _had_ heard them that one night.

_Never_ doubt Bat-senses.

Staring down at him hungrily, Bruce wrapped his fingers around Dick’s cock again. He stroked lazily, making Dick rock with the motion of his hand, at least as much as Bruce’s weight on top of him allowed. It was Dick’s turn to close his hands around Bruce’s thighs, fine hair bristling against his palms as a wave of desire flowed through him.

Bruce tore open a wet-wipe with his teeth—and just when did he grab that?—and cleaned off his hands. If Dick were the one getting ready to take a cock, he’d want to prep himself with clean fingers, too. Then Bruce handed _him_ a wipe. “I’ll start. But I want to _feel_ whatever that alien sensation is inside me.” Bruce ripped open a lube packet and Dick couldn’t help but stare as Bruce reared up enough to reach underneath himself. Seeing those strong fingers teasing, combined with the _expression_ on Bruce’s face, eyes slipping shut in concentration, made Dick’s cock twitch again.

Dick found himself rubbing his hands up and down Bruce’s thighs, the friction driving him crazy with the need to _fuck_ sometime soon as his cock leaked steadily. Bruce didn’t seem to be doing much better, if the utter lack of finesse at prepping himself was any indication. “Lemme, Bruce.” Bruce tore open another lube packet and drizzled its slippery contents onto Dick’s fingers. The intense gaze Bruce leveled at him while submitting to the penetration made Dick groan along with him.

Obviously he’d expected Bruce to be hot and tight, but maybe it was the red dust talking because he’d never felt anything like he’d felt inside Bruce. Like sliding his cock in would literally be heaven. The full body _shudder_ his stretching caused in Bruce was just as hot as the moan that went along with it. “Dick, I think I’m—”

“You are not _close_ to ready—”

“But I need you inside so damn _badly_ …” Bruce spasmed again as Dick teased around his prostate and this time Dick followed along, and when Bruce brushed his fingers over the head of his cock he bucked up _hard_ into him.

“Not sure how long I’ll last even when I get inside you…”

“Think we’ll be good for a couple rounds…”

Dick hoped to hell they would be, considering the way Bruce came like a shot the second Dick pressed his prostate straight on. Bruce panted and twitched, and sweat poured off of him. Dick closed his eyes, because the sight of Bruce being torn apart from so little—even enhanced by so much—would make him come again too.

The aliens cheered around them, reminding Dick exactly where they were and what they were doing. They needed to escape, they needed to get pants on, they needed to get off this Godforsaken planet, but then Bruce rolled a condom onto him, causing another wave to radiate through him, and Dick’s eyes snapped open. The concept of getting off the planet receded again as Dick looked ahead more immediately to getting _himself_ off.

The head of his cock slipped inside as Bruce sank down on him, and Bruce’s eyes fell shut as he and Dick groaned in tandem. Inch after inch Bruce took inside, adjusting slightly as necessary to accommodate Dick’s girth. Dick had imagined what it would feel like over the past little while, being connected with the effects of the red dust, but it wasn’t even _close_. He felt more alive than he ever had before, even when flying on grapple lines or riding an adrenaline high after a successful fight. Every nerve ending felt electrified, and his whole body felt aroused and sensitive.

Dick panted out—and when had he stopped breathing normally? —“I don’t think this is going to last long…”

“Cock ring…is in my other pair of boots…”

Bruce either had a crazy sense of humor after two orgasms, or he was _serious_ , and just how the hell did he have time for his impromptu sessions with the cat and the alien that he wanted to prolong them?

Leaning forward, Bruce rested his hands on the ground on either side of Dick’s head. The position gave him an incredible amount of leverage, especially with his strength. He rocked back and forth, a slow slide up with a harder slide back down onto Dick. There was a shuddery halt to the down stroke every time his prostate was grazed, or at least Dick supposed that’s what it was based on Bruce’s little mewl of pleasure every time it happened.

That _sound_ was what was ratcheting Dick tighter and tighter, knowing that it was _him_ that was causing it to escape from Bruce’s throat. Okay, so really it was all of it, the sound of Bruce losing himself to the sex, the scent of salt in the air from their arousal, the sight of Bruce’s flushed face as he let himself _feel_ , the prickling sensation as drops of Bruce’s sweat landed on his chest, and of course just how tight and hot he was around him, Dick wanting to push himself up further inside no matter how impossible that was.

The only way to push himself further inside would be to be in another position, but Bruce looked so damn content to ride him like this. Maybe he could help Bruce along… Dick stopped massaging Bruce’s thighs and instead trailed his fingers up along Bruce’s flanks, running his fingertips over scars. Bruce hitched again and dropped his head. Dick slowly made his way up until his thumbs reached Bruce’s nipples. Bruce _surged_ into the touch, almost coming off of Dick’s cock. “Oh, Dick, right there, just like that…”

Dick pressed circles around the edges, then flicked his thumbs back and forth across the tips as they peaked. Bruce stopped moving entirely and appeared to just be focusing on the new sensation. When he started rocking again Dick knew it was almost the end. He could feel Bruce’s orgasm starting, the small tremors that would soon lead to full shudders. Bruce propped himself up on his left hand, his right snaking to his cock and stroking. The growl started deep in Bruce’s chest, finally becoming a shout as his body jerked as he came, his grimace of intense pleasure _gorgeous_ as he painted Dick’s chest.

The aliens _roared_ along with him.

As he came down and relaxed, Bruce leaned to the side, then let gravity take over, collapsing on his stomach next to Dick, his cock sliding out slowly, the air cold around it compared to being inside Bruce. Dick gave Bruce a minute to recover before rolling over on top of him. “Need you, Bruce.” He laved his tongue across Bruce’s salty shoulders. “Need. Inside. You.”

Slowly, Bruce raised his hips in invitation. Not wanting Bruce to change his mind, Dick pulled his hips up and back and braced Bruce’s knees. He almost jerked his hands away as he slid in and held Bruce in place; the bolt almost burned it was so good. Like _this_ was the position they were supposed to be in from the beginning. This was definitely better for Dick as he balanced himself and thrust _in_ hard enough to feel it in his toes but not hard enough to hurt Bruce. Bruce’s back muscles bunched as he moved with Dick’s thrusts, sweat pooling at certain points as it ran down his spine.

Bruce grunted quietly on every other thrust in, and Dick tried very hard not to just grind himself against Bruce until he came. The performer inside of Dick wondered what they looked like, two sexy guys going at it, the bottom braced on his forearms with his knees spread, the top slamming into him like he was going to _die_ if he didn’t get off soon.

Part of Dick couldn’t help but feel that that was actually the case, the dust making him more turned on than he’d ever been in his _life_ and so fucking _excited_ that he was doing this with Bruce, had made Bruce come three times already as Dick pounded into him and touched him.

Eventually, and how the hell had Dick lasted _this_ long, he felt the little twinges that meant his orgasm was nigh. As much as he wanted to extend the sex—and _boy_ did he not want the electrified feeling of arousal and perfection to end—he _needed_ to come, so he didn’t fight it, didn’t drag it out any longer. He positioned himself _just so_ and gave Bruce all he had, focusing on nothing else but where they were connected and how damn _amazing_ he felt, like every separate touch was attached to a crank that ratcheted his arousal, need, and the _sensation_ higher.

It was like nothing else he’d ever experienced before as he came, feeling it not only along his whole body, fingers and toes and everything normal in between, but in his eyebrows and heels, along his back as well. His vision whited out and the roar in his ears was only his blood, until he relaxed enough that it became the cheering of the aliens, and his own breathy grunts vibrating through his throat.

Reluctantly and oh-so-slowly Dick pulled out of Bruce, rubbing his back at his little moan of disappointment before pulling off the condom and tossing it to the side. Wanting to lie down but not along Bruce’s back Dick tipped him to the side with him, settling Bruce on his back as he lay on his own side, head propped up on one hand while his other hand rested on Bruce’s stomach.

“Jesus, Bruce. That was…”

“Fantastical.”

“…That’s one word, yes.” Dick had been focused on Bruce’s face, his eyes still red-rimmed and face still flushed, but then he realized Bruce’s cock was poking his wrist. “You’re hard again?”

“You aren’t?” There was challenge there, a comment about a young guy versus an older guy and the older guy having more stamina and prowess—or maybe that was all in Dick’s head and Bruce was genuinely asking a question, perhaps concerned about his current predicament.

And now that Dick thought about it, and especially after Bruce _stroked_ him, he was definitely hard again. Not aching for sex like he had been, not so painfully aroused it was like if he didn’t get off he would die, but hard with a pleasant-feeling erection, like a drowsy morning in bed with his lover.

Jeez, did the dust make him a _romantic_ too?

He also realized that hadn’t gotten to taste Bruce at all, like they’d both just skipped over foreplay for the main attraction. Then again, the pure animal _need_ caused by the dust explained _that_.

Well. He could certainly rectify that oversight now.

Dick spun himself around so he and Bruce were head-to-toe, and casually reached out and stroked Bruce’s cock. Gone was the aching need, but Dick wasn’t going to look an erection in the face—literally—and ignore it, especially as he felt Bruce wrap his hand around his. The waves of pleasure were still there, but not as intense, and Dick set about enjoying blowing Bruce.

He felt Bruce shift up until they were both on one elbow. Dick traced his thumb along the thick vein that ran along the bottom of Bruce’s cock, then thumbed right underneath the head. He followed that same path with his tongue, the dirt from the day’s activities only a deterrent at first as he worked up some spit. The thought of the antibacterial wipes was even more disgusting.

Bruce thought a little differently, though understandably considering where his cock had been, and the wet-wipe was cold against his heated flesh before Bruce washed him with his spit. Finally Dick felt Bruce’s warm tongue flick against his cock, which jerked towards the heat and attention. Dick wondered what it would have felt like had the dust been working at full power, but didn’t get far in that direction before Bruce swallowed him down. He imagined he really would have exploded at that wickedly skillful tongue and mouth on him.

Bruce was a _magician_ at sucking him, taking him almost all the way down and twisting his tongue around him like he was part serpent. Which didn’t make sense at _all_ but Dick was being blown while trying to pleasure that other person and was still hopped up on alien dust, and no one would blame him for not thinking clearly.

He sucked harder when Bruce’s cock pulsed some pre-cum, the salty flavor only turning him on more because it meant he was doing a good job of pleasing his partner. He swallowed down as much of his cock as he could, until his lips met his hand and he could move both in one motion. Bruce bucked into him and redoubled his efforts, making Dick moan around Bruce’s cock, which made him work even harder…

It was one of those amazing feedback loops, and it was driving Dick crazy. He wanted Bruce to _come_ already, wanted to taste him, wanted to know he could push Bruce over the edge with his cock, his hands, _and_ his mouth. But then he realized that either Bruce was really that much more skilled, or Dick was in greater need because he’d only come twice to Bruce’s three times, and that he was almost ready to come.

He had to _stop_ , just had to focus on himself, because the tremors were coming faster and faster as Bruce sucked and stroked, and he just couldn’t give Bruce’s cock the attention it deserved. So he pulled off and dropped his head, hand still idly holding onto Bruce. Without worrying about Bruce he was able to enjoy Bruce’s attention even more, enjoy the finesse of his tongue, the warmth of his mouth, and the slight occasional scrape of teeth.

Dick couldn’t help the moans that escaped his lips as he felt his orgasm build, the pleasure spiraling through his body until it peaked and he came, _hard_ , into Bruce’s mouth, as Bruce kept working until Dick had to push him away, the sensations too much for his spent cock.

After catching his breath and letting his body recuperate a little, Dick reapplied himself to Bruce’s cock, wanting to make Bruce feel as good as he did. Finally he found a stroke/twist/swallow combination that made Bruce shake, and he kept doing that harder and harder until Bruce came in his mouth with a groan. Dick swallowed what he could as he stayed on, loving Bruce shuddering around him as he came, until he gently pushed Dick away.

Dick spun around again until they were side by side, head lolling in the dirt as he took in their alien audience. Was that… were the aliens giving them a _standing ovation_? He rolled to face Bruce, who looked deliciously spent and debauched, and his eyes no longer rimmed with red. “We’re stars, Bruce.”

“Oh wonderful.” But there was some fear under the sarcasm.

“Gimme a minute to catch my breath, and then let’s get the hell out of here.” Dick wanted the pillow talk, the goofy things shared between lovers after fantastic sex, but knew he couldn’t have it, least of all because Bruce wasn’t his, and he didn’t want to pretend by extending the shared cool-down.

Bruce grunted, “You feeling better?”

Dick thought about it for a moment, and realized he did. “I don’t want to kill you or screw you anymore, so I guess yeah.”

Something flashed across Bruce’s face but was gone before he could read it. “Me either. What I do want is to get the hell out of here, get to the ship, and _shower_. This is worse than fighting Clayface in the sewer.”

“Yeah, that was pretty gross.” And the start of so much bad between them…

Just as they started making motions to get up and get dressed, there was another sound of a cannon firing. Blue dust filled the air, and just as Dick was wondering what the _hell_ that would do to them, there was a huge gust of wind that blew it all back onto the aliens.

Startled, Dick turned as he asked, “What the hell?” And almost dropped to his knees in relief, they buckled so hard at the sight of J’onn standing behind him, using his vortex breath. “I have never been happier to see anyone in my life.”

“While grateful for the sentiment, I am doubtful of the truthfulness of your words.”

Somehow already in the bottom half of his costume, Bruce said, “Thank you. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

With J’onn’s help and the aliens distracted by the blue powder, they were able to escape the gates blocking them in. J’onn had been able to phase through them, and a few solid kicks from Bruce and Dick broke them down. From there J’onn led them through a series of passages and eventually back to the surface.

Dick hadn’t thought a _pink_ sun would ever be a welcome sight, but he’d had a very strange day thus far.

Once they made it back to the blessed ship, they found Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash, and Green Lantern already back. Flash looked at them, unimpressed, and commented, “’Bout time.”

“Sorry we were kidnapped, forced to fight, and… uh… had to be rescued.”

“You guys got the green dust too, huh? I mean, you look like you’ve been to hell and back…”

“You too?”

Flash nodded. “Tried my damndest to beat the crap out of Supes here, but he got more of the dust than I did. Made him more aggressive, and he wasn’t able to metabolize it as fast as I did. Fortunately we were both able to work it through our systems before we did any lasting damage, and got the heck out of there.”

Bruce turned to Diana and looked her up and down, and Dick did _not_ feel a ridiculous pang of jealousy. “You and Stewart make it out unscathed?”

“The energy from his ring is impenetrable even with my strength augmented by the dust. We put on a rather lackluster show for the aliens. I was able to metabolize the dust quickly and John wasn’t affected at all because he was able to create a force field around himself before the cannon fired. But not me.” Diana shot John a glare that Dick was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of.

“What about you, J’onn? Were you forced to perform by yourself?”

“Fortunately because I look the most like them—though tall and handsome—they spared me the show and merely locked me up. I was unable to phase through the bindings they put me in, but I managed to shift into one of their form. When they came back for me they thought I had escaped and tied up one of their own, and once they released me I was able to escape. I found Diana and John first, because I could read John’s unaltered state of mind. Once Flash had worked their powder out of his system I was able to read him and find him and Superman as they were escaping. I made the others wait here while I hunted for you; I don’t seem to be affected by their dust though they did coat me with some, and I didn’t want everyone else becoming affected and aggressive again. The two of you were the hardest to find, because you evidently had to act out the full effects of the powder and I could not recognize your presences. ”

Bruce blanched ever so slightly, and Dick could feel J’onn pushing at his mind and likely Bruce’s as well. _Your secret is safe with me. I’ve known your feelings for each other for a long time, and will not expose you and what happened between you while under the influence of the aliens. Bruce, you may want to have a conversation with Kal._

Bruce nodded once in agreement, and Dick mirrored the action. “Thanks for the save, J’onn. Without you who knows what would have happened.”

“Indeed.” J’onn gave them both a very knowing look, and Diana started up the ship to fly them the hell away from the planet.

Dick called for the shower first, much to Bruce’s obvious dismay.

~*~

Hours later, cleaned up, fed, and rested, Dick knocked on the door to the small quarters Bruce was using on this mission. He almost expected Bruce to not answer, but the door opened quickly. Once inside they stared at each other, not quite sure what to do. Dick noticed the cuts along Bruce’s arms and thought about the ones that must be on his chest, and hated the way Bruce’s jaw was bruised. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For the cuts. For hitting you. For violating you while under the influence.”

Bruce didn’t roll his eyes, but Dick could tell it was a near thing. “Under the influence of alien dust, Dick. You were hardly in your proper state of mind. And neither was I. And besides, it was hardly a violation. I remember enjoying it very much. Begging for you, in fact.”

Flushing, Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I never would have figured you for, ah, liking it that way.”

Sighing, Bruce crossed his arms defensively. “I spend all my time under such intense control both physical and mental that I’ve had countless ulcers and I grind my teeth. Every once in a while it’s invigorating to just let someone be in control of me for a while, just make me _feel_. Besides, the bottom is the one who’s supposed to call the shots. Clark is… a damn generous lover, by the way. And I apologize that you heard us that one night.”

“So, uh, are you two like a thing?”

“Convenience, mostly. He and Selina fulfill different needs, and I fulfill needs for them. Not everyone can handle a Kryptonian in bed, nor a firecracker like Selina.” He cocked his head a little. “Not everyone is excitable by the thought of having sex on rooftops or against gargoyles, either.”

“That’s… okay, that’s hot.” Bruce almost smiled slightly. Knowing he’d have to be the one to forge ahead, Dick continued, “So, what about us?”

“What about us?”

Rolling his eyes, Dick answered, “How about the way I’ve wanted you for a long time, and you seem to want me if what J’onn said is any indication, and we just had hot fucking sex that should be repeated against a gargoyle?”

“You want me to go back to the planet and steal that red dust?”

Exasperated, Dick gritted out, “Fine, deny it, blame the dust, but you want me. Think about it, Bruce, the way we’ve been dancing around it for years, waiting for what I don’t know, the right time, the right catalyst, whatever, and here it is.”

“I…” Bruce shook his head, and Dick took his cue to leave. He was stupid to think he and Bruce could be anything more than highly dysfunctional partners, even if living out his fantasy was one of the best things to ever happen to him, and even if Bruce seemed to have enjoyed it too. “Wait, Dick. I’m just… It’ll mean a lot of changes.”

“It doesn’t have to. We can go slow. I won’t even… I won’t even make you give up Clark and Selina.” Frankly the thought of a ménage à trois with either of them was damned hot.

“That wouldn’t be fair to anyone. With you, it would be… emotional. With them it’s just sex.”

“Emotional?”

“You’re more than just quick lay in an alley, Dick. You’re so much more than that. You’ve always been more than anyone. You’re most important to me.” There was an earnest look to Bruce’s eyes that Dick couldn’t quite handle at the moment.

Overwhelmed, Dick stammered, “Thanks, I guess.”

“Yeah, ‘thanks.’” Now Bruce looked hurt and wary.

“I didn’t mean—”

Bruce turned away. “Just… let me think about it. There’s so much to think about, worry about.”

Angry, Dick marched up to him and spun him around. “Nothing to think about. Either you want me or you don’t.”

Bruce just looked so…oddly _helpless_ for Bruce, for the man Dick had seen fight and live and love and _be_ over the years. Knowing this was his chance, he leaned into Bruce, one hand cradling his bruised face, and pressed their lips together, their first kiss and hopefully not their last. Bruce tasted like toothpaste and not like dust, and Dick had to force himself to not lean harder for more. This was up to Bruce.

Just as he was thinking of giving up, Bruce kissed back. Tentatively, sweetly, but still, he returned it. Then he pulled away and didn’t quite look Dick in the eyes as he softly said, “I do. But we need to take it slow.”

“I’m good with slow. It’s not like I’m not scared, too, you know.”

Bruce’s lips cocked into a wry grin. “I didn’t think you were scared of anything.”

“Bad guys, super villains, heights, no. Pursuing anything with you… I know it can go sideways, but I’m willing to try if you are. Even for a short while. And if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out, but after today I think this is something we should try. Okay?” The words were hard to say, almost impossible, saying what he’d wanted to after all these years, and it was also terrifying to admit it could all result in the collapse of their entire relationship.

Cupping the side of Dick’s face with one calloused hand, Bruce answered, “Okay.”

The second kiss was still sweet, but slightly harder. Dick wanted more, but pulled away enough to murmur against Bruce’s lips, “I should get back to my quarters. Before things get more complicated too quickly.”

“That would… probably be for the best.”

Dick walked backwards to the door, looking at the longing in Bruce’s eyes. Opening and shutting the door behind him, he leaned back on it. What was he thinking, getting involved with Bruce? It was going to be a disaster.

But Dick wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. Especially not one that he initiated, and not one that could be the single greatest thing in their lives.

And maybe there was good that could come from this horrendous day.

~*~

One level and three rooms away, J’onn J’onzz smiled. He hated to intrude upon his friends’ thoughts, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. “Oh no, Dick, it won’t be a disaster. It will be difficult, but it will be worth it. You can’t see the way he feels about you.”

Glad _something_ positive had come from the disastrous alien planet, J’onn went back to his Oreos. 

 

~*~


End file.
